


It Doesn't Matter

by saigne



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Androids, Established Relationship, M/M, Suicide, also i apologize for any ooc-ness ill try to keep them in character, but idk its an au so theyre in a different situation and yeahh, i should probably put that tag, justin is an android this is an AU and i thought id be cool
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 13:55:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3612483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saigne/pseuds/saigne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It really sucks when things go wrong, because when you already are at the bottom it's hard to go lower. Somehow, you do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Doesn't Matter

**Author's Note:**

> I just had the hunger for robots and started talking about this to a friend. It seems like a good idea. 
> 
> Also it's sad. Very sad. I made her cry.
> 
> (Also apologies I'm not used to writing at all.)

He’s sitting on the chair, fingers flying across the keys of the laptop faster than any human could hope to move them, staring at the screen intently. Probably looking up remixes of songs or something, Giriko guesses. He knows Justin is aware he’s staring at him, the blond’s amazing ability to be aware of every detail in the room no longer surprising Giriko like it once did. Now it was just annoying, but expected.

Justin finally looks over when Giriko raises the bottle to his lips. No work today, Justin keeping himself sufficiently entertained, no reason not to get drunk. He doesn’t feel human without it. Less human than Justin, even.

“Why do you do that to yourself?” Giriko looks over to see that Justin finally acknowledged him, turning away from the screen to look disapprovingly at Giriko. He’s dealt with Giriko’s hangovers, doesn’t understand what appeal such a drink can have if it leaves him shaking and nauseous the next morning, more irritable than normal and unable to even yell unless he wants his head to split in two. He doesn’t know that without a drink Giriko is left shaking and unable to function, withdrawals overpowering the concern he has for his liver (not much, if any) or that damn look Justin gives him when he starts drinking. He’s tried. It doesn’t work. 

Justin can’t get drunk either; his body can’t process anything, though whatever internal battery that makes him move still hasn’t run out. Giriko is too scared to look, if he’s honest with himself. He doesn’t want to break him.  
“You wouldn’t get it.” The standard reply. Justin doesn’t look offended, either. He’s learned to read the man enough that he can translate it to what it means: I don’t know, I can’t explain.

Justin just tilts his head, sighing and setting down the computer before closing the laptop shut and walking over to Giriko on the couch. Maybe he was reading on body language again instead of music Giriko thinks to himself, wondering exactly how much Justin took to heart when he said that he acted too stiff. 

He perches on the edge of the couch, leaning towards Giriko and slowly prying the bottle away from him, setting it on the table right next to them. “I don’t like it.”

The blond leans against Giriko, careful not to put too much of his weight on the other, and Giriko can’t help but appreciate how warm he is. The idea that a machine would be cold is stupid, and the human never got why movies always insisted that a machine would be cold. Even phones felt hot.

“Distract me then,” Giriko growls out, reaching up with the free hand and cupping Justin’s cheek, making him twist and lean down to kiss him. It’s so foreign, dry and warm and unique, and it never fails to get a thrill from Giriko. He has to wonder what Justin gets from it, the times he’s asked the only response was a smile he couldn’t understand and a shrug.

Justin leans over him, hands on either side of Giriko’s head now, pressing down into the couch more than  
anyone would think. It’s frustrating, because they can’t actually do anything, who ever made Justin deciding that he didn’t really need certain parts of the human anatomy. So it was always just kissing, Giriko getting himself off if he really needed too. 

This time it’s only a distraction, Justin stopping when he knows that Giriko no longer is focused on the alcohol on the table, sitting up straight and smirking, reaching up to wipe spit from the back of his mouth and he looks too human. 

If there was one thing Giriko had going for him, it’s that he was smart. Machines and parts and metal always did what he wanted under his hands. It makes sense that he would work as a mechanic then, he figured early on. Someone would drop something off, he’d fix it, give it back and get paid. It would be easy. Except he didn’t think about certain things, like needing parts for repairs but not having the funds to buy them. So that’s why he’s staring up at those damn blue eyes, somehow holding feeling even though they were made in a lab, glass and plastic and plasma. 

Giriko laughs, smiling up at Justin, who returns the smile worriedly and he’s probably thinking that Giriko snapped. 

Maybe he’s feeling nostalgic, the buzz just enough to make Giriko fuzzy around the edges and start thinking about how he ended up here. About rummaging around a tech dump and tripping over a leg of all things. Looking down in annoyance, figuring he can kick the crap out of what tripped him, only to be shocked by the fact it was a damn body part, connected to a whole person. He figured out it wasn’t, after a quick inspection. That’s why he picked it up, dragging it all the way back to where he lived; the parts he could salvage would be great.

Only then the eyes on the bot opened and Giriko was pinned, on his back faster than he could blink and blank blue eyes staring at him. A Lie later- I’m not going to hurt you- and the machine let him go, stepping back and staring at him, smiling when Giriko started to curse at him and walk off, following like a lost dog. 

Giriko is snapped back into the present when Justin gets off him, manhandling Giriko into a sitting position and carefully pressing the remote into his hand. Apparently Justin rather have him rotting his brain with television than other organs with booze. 

“You didn’t have to fucking pick me up like I’m a kid you asshole,” Giriko snaps, taking the remote and leaning against Justin and he’s just so fucking tired. He wants to argue more, instead just does what Justin wants, taking the remote and turning on the t.v. and he wonders when the fuck did he become so tame. 

He figures it doesn’t really matter. Maybe he has feelings for a robot that’s holding him together and that’s fine.  
 

He doesn’t think anything of it, when it happens. Should have seen the warning signs, the way Justin looked confused for a week, nervous. Instead Giriko went on, following the weird routine he had developed with the blond and ignoring every sign that something was wrong. The way Justin’s fingers twitched wrong. Except it’s too much.

“Hey, Justin, what the hell is wrong with you?” Probably needs more tact, but that’s always been Justin’s weakness. 

The blond is sprawled out, laying on the ground and reading some book. He looks up at Giriko, face impassive as stone for a moment before it twists into a confused expression. “What do you mean?”

Giriko frowns, shoulders tensing and he can recognize the hesitation there and Justin is fucking lying to him. “I mean you’re not acting normal.” He walks over to him, glaring and forcefully sitting on the couch and staring at Justin, teeth bared as he glares. 

Hesititing before speaking is something Justin never does, and Giriko can’t help but notice the way his fingers press into the book before he finally does say something. “I was wondering… do you think I can feel?”

“I-“ Giriko’s at a loss for words. He wasn’t expecting that, and he can’t articulate his answer either. Not how he wants to say it. Instead all that comes out is a weak “yes.”

Justin smiles, looking grateful for the answer and going back to his reading, posture more relaxed than it had been, but something feels so wrong to Giriko.

 

It’s a week later, Giriko’s in the shop and Justin is sitting on the work benches at the edge, absent mindedly swinging a pipe back and forth. He’s humming to himself, and to Giriko is sounds like a funeral dirge. It’s depressing.

“Shut up.”

Justin stops, pouting at Giriko. “But I’m not talking.”

Giriko glares, sneering and looking over at him, setting down tools. “Are you asking for me to kick your ass?”

Justin laughs, jumping up off the bench and walking over to Giriko, leaving the pipe behind. He walks up, and something about it prompts Giriko to take a step back. He’s walking like a predator. Justin leans forward when he’s in front of Giriko, kissing him softly and bringing hand to rest on the back of his Giriko’s neck. Giriko feels that spasm in Justin’s hand, and he breaks the kiss, pushing away and honestly he’s worried. He’s aggressive, arrogant, self-destructive, and completely worried right now about someone other than himself.

“No…” Justin pauses, lips pressed together in a tight line and the look Giriko sees is one he knows. Justin looks like he’s fighting himself, and he wonders if that’s the closest Justin can get to telling him what’s wrong. Because he can’t know the people that made Justin and threw him away, thinking he was destroyed, realized that the system was active and that one of their failed experiments was up and about. He can’t know that they decided the human it was living with wasn’t worth the trouble. He didn’t know that for a week Justin has been struggling with the kill order sent through his system, telling Justin to strangle Giriko every second he’s aware of his presence.

Giriko becomes aware of something when the hand on his neck tightens, grips sliding around to the front and another joining it. He reaches up, nails digging into Justin’s arms and there’s no give. The pressure on his neck keeps building and he manages a few words before all Giriko can do its struggle for air. 

“Ju-ustin, what are-“ He’s cut off by the tightness, and he can’t do anything but pull at the hands on his throat, even though it’s useless. 

It’s finally then that Giriko gets past the shock and hears the repeat of “I’m sorry” over and over coming from Justin’s mouth and all he can do it gasp for air. The look on Justin’s face is only pain, eyes wide and expression twisted and he looks like he's suffering, which is funny because Giriko is the one being strangled. 

Giriko’s vision starts to black out, and he’s not sure when he’s tuned out Justin’s words, and now they changed and he’s chanting “I love you” like it will somehow fix everything. Like if he says it enough Giriko won’t be under his hands slowly losing his life. Giriko wants to smile for a second, because he knows and it’s some sort of cosmic joke that this is how it comes out, but instead he blacks out, choking and passing out from lack of oxygen. Except he’s only unconscious and Justin has to keep his hands there until the beats from his pulse stop coming and the sound he makes is broken and painful because he has to feel the life slip away and there’s nothing he can do.

Giriko doesn’t know what happens when the system is done and Justin is free to move, the target eliminated. He doesn’t know that Justin lets go of his neck, laying him down carefully on the dirty concrete. He doesn’t know that Justin got up and grabbed the pipe he was swinging earlier, sitting back down next to Giriko’s body and holding it and just staring. He doesn’t know that Justin lifts the pipe, holding it facing his head and that’s where the main control of his systems is He doesn’t have to watch Justin use his monster strength to jam the pipe through his head, sparks dancing along the ends of the metal as Justin spasms, systems short circuiting and trying to function as Justin falls against him. Doesn’t know that Justin didn’t have a life before, only being an experiment and machine until Giriko found him and because of that, going on without Giriko doesn’t mean anything to Justin. That is doesn’t really matter.


End file.
